A Late Night Rendezvous
by angelically-devilish
Summary: 2009 TWIN EXCHANGE FIC OF THE YEAR! Fed up with playing the villain in her recent break-up with Ron, Hermione escapes to the Grimmauld Place kitchen for some solitude. But what girl would turn down the company of a sexy, shirtless Marauder? SiriusHermione


**A/N:** WINNER OF THE 2009 TWIN EXCHANGE FIC OF THE YEAR!!

**Theme:** Draco Malfoy, born June 5th, 1980

**Pairing:** Sirius/Hermione

**Prompt:** a Howler

**Quote:** "Whatever happens, this is not my fault"

**Summary:** After enduring the wrath of middle-aged housewives everywhere for her break-up with Ron, Hermione escapes to the kitchen for some much needed solitude. Fortunately for her, solitude doesn't exist inside the confines of Grimmauld Place...

* * *

**A Late-Night Rendezvous**

All was quiet in number 12 Grimmauld Place as an exhausted bushy-haired witch padded quietly down to the kitchen. Hermione Granger could feel her fatigue encumber her movement but her traitorous mind kept churning over the day's events. It had been an exceptionally long week, filled with howlers from various meddling members of the wizarding community with asinine comments about her recent, very public break-up with the lovable Ronald Weasley.

Despite their amicable split – which had been the result of a mutual understanding that being in a relationship for four years and feeling comfortable with not having sex for the past ten months was not a relationship as much as a friendship – and Ron's enthusiastic re-entry in to the meat-market of good-looking, eligible wizards, the acid quills of the voracious reporters for the _Daily Prophet_ never ceased to paint the brilliant Muggleborn as a power-hungry man-eater to whom middle-aged housewives shouted unkind epithets into angry red envelopes.

The charred remains of these unfriendly missives had turned Hermione's desk at work into a patchwork of black soot and singed parchment. The disorganized chaos that the random explosions caused frustrated the detail-oriented witch to no end. This, coupled with the constant disruption and subsequent embarrassment as strangers continued to cast aspersions on her character, had made the week unbearable, and she had looked forward to a calm weekend, despite the growing frustration that her new-found single-status brought with it the aggravation of actually _being_ single.

She hated the irony of being the only woman in the world who could be depressingly-sexless both in a relationship and out of one.

With these and other frustrations on her mind, she had come home to find two of the five other Grimmauld Place inhabitants locked in a heated argument with the red-faced Weasley matriarch, discussing the most recent of the many exaggerated unsavory claims the infuriating newspaper had printed. Ron and Harry, never known for their subtlety, had silenced themselves awkwardly upon her arrival. Mrs. Weasley, however, glared daggers at her before stalking out of the kitchen, leaving the fatigued brunette feeling guilty and loathing the existence of printed media.

Though Harry had promised to demand a retraction, Hermione was not naïve enough to think that the protests of her best friend would do much to salvage her bruised reputation. Even if her best friend _was_ the Man-Who-Conquered-All-Evil-Thus-Dispelling-Darkness-From-The-World-And-Could-Subsequently-Do-Absolutely-No-Wrong-Whatsoever-In-Life.

Thus disheartened and swearing an immediate and cruel demise to any poor soul that dared disturb her, Hermione stomped up the stairs and cloistered herself in her room for some much needed peace and quiet. Lying in her bed with a book, she reveled in remorseless glee as she blissfully ignored the insistent tap-tap-tapping of the haughty owls who bore the bright red envelopes, smirking to herself as the howlers exploded under the poor creatures, causing them to squawk indignantly and fly away.

She inwardly hoped the animals would seek retribution upon the very people who had authored the notes in the first place.

As she lay listening to the house calm from its flurry of inhabitants, Hermione tried to find solace beneath the cool cotton of her sheets. Though exhausted, sleep seemed to elude her as the obnoxious thought that she now had to spend the beautiful summer nights _alone_ drifted through her mind, thus coaxing her out of her bed and down to the kitchen for a cup of chamomile tea.

Opening the door, she found her two ginger-headed mischief-making housemates leaning conspiratorially over a box in the center of the kitchen table.

"And you're sure it's this weekend?"

"Positive, mate. You should have heard the way he was going on in Fortescue's today."

"I don't suppose this could be traced back to us."

"Not a chance."

"I just wish I could see the look on his face…"

"Careful, George! You don't want to set it off!"

"Dear brother, you'd think I'd never worked with these before."

"You said that third year in the girls' toilet and look what happened then?"

"Well, whatever happens, this is not my fault. This was all your idea."

"Rubbish. This was _your_ idea."

Hermione had half a mind to turn around and head back to her room, but her curiosity overwhelmed her and she cleared her throat to alert the mischievous twins of her presence.

They both jumped.

"Jesus, Granger, you almost gave me a heart-attack," Fred said, looking at her wide-eyed before turning his attention back to the box.

"I just wanted to let you know that someone else was in the room before you decided to do something stupid, like blowing up the kitchen…again," she said pointedly, walking past them toward the stove.

George sighed.

"Always assuming the worst, Granger. It's really quite hard for us not to take it personally."

"You're lucky we love you enough to continuously forgive your rude slanders of our unimpeachable character."

Hermione rolled her eyes, filling the kettle and placing it on the stovetop before turning to them.

"So what hapless victim will be on the receiving end of another legendary prank ala Weasley?" she asked.

Fred smirked.

"Look at who's suddenly so interested. Afraid it might be you, Granger?"

She scoffed.

"Hardly. You two know better than that."

George grinned.

"I don't know. Perhaps this is a 'Congratulations for Finally Dumping Ronniekins' present."

"If that were true, the box wouldn't be half as big and its contents would vibrate obscenely. I _know_ you boys," she replied, grinning as they both broke into identical smiles.

"Good to know you have such expectations," Fred said.

"And we will deliver as _soon_ as we can," George promised.

Hermione rolled her eyes again.

"Come on, boys, what poor soul are you picking on today?"

"Curiosity killed the cat, Granger."

"And satisfaction brought him back, boys, so why don't you just answer the lady's question?"

The three turned to see Sirius walking through the kitchen door, his hair tousled from recent sleep and his chest bare to the warm June night. The freedom and peaceful atmosphere had done the man good, and Hermione had developed a more-than-slight crush on the aristocratic playboy even though she knew she shouldn't because she had been with Ron at the time. It didn't help, however, that she and Sirius always fell into an easy, sexually-laced banter whenever they were together, further provoking the young witch's raging hormones and increasing sexual frustration.

Catching his eye, Hermione – overworked, undersexed, and living in a house full of handsome yet maddeningly-unattainable men – once again found herself blushingly wrenching her eyes away from the delicious musculature of Sirius's lithe torso and reminding herself that the man in front of her, though sinfully gorgeous, was Harry's godfather and completely out of her league.

George heaved another dramatic sigh, bringing her back to the twins' project.

"We are _attempting_ to assemble the absolute _perfect_ birthday present for a certain Slytherin who happens to be turning twenty-one tomorrow."

"As you can imagine, this process requires quite a bit of finesse."

Hermione arched an eyebrow.

"You're sending him a box full of dungbombs, aren't you?"

Both twins looked scandalized.

"We wouldn't!"

"You wound us in your underestimation of our gifts."

Sirius chuckled.

"What are you sending him, then?"

"A box full of our Wildfire Whiz-bangs," George said proudly. "Guaranteed to destroy every flammable object in sight."

"And some _non_-flammable ones," Fred added.

Hermione rolled her eyes again, but said nothing as she pulled the whistling kettle off the stove.

"All done!" Fred said triumphantly, finishing off the bow. Walking over with her empty tea cup, Hermione glanced at the present, wrapped in inappropriately cheerful red and gold paper, sporting a card that simply said _'To Our Ferret'_.

She arched her eyebrow at them again.

"Yes," she said dryly. "Draco will never guess who this came from. The subtlety is simply masterful."

Fred arched his own eyebrow.

"Is that _sarcasm_ I hear, Granger?" he asked.

"Because cynicism is not a good look on you, _dahling_," George added, batting his eyelashes.

Sirius let out a bark of a laugh, coming up to them and putting a hand on each shoulder.

"Boys," he said, his deep voice filled with amusement and his normally-haunted grey eyes twinkling with the memories of his own past mischief. "Take it from the master – irony looks good on _everyone_."

With a flick of his wrist, the wrapping paper was changed to green and silver, and the card stated _'Our humblest regards, Mr. Malfoy'_.

Hermione rolled her eyes again.

"I don't know how much longer I can stand living in this place if I'm going to be a party to inter-house warfare _in spite_ of being out of Hogwarts for almost four years," she said.

"Aw, Granger, you stay 'cuz you love us," George said with a smirk, giving her an affectionate kiss on the cheek.

"Yeah. That and you know we'll hex you within an inch of your life if you leave us here to endure Ginny's cooking," Fred added, repeating his brother's action and with twin grins, the two dashed out of the room.

Hermione sighed.

"If I get a howler from any of the Malfoys, it will be _me_ who hexes them within an inch of their lives," she mumbled, more to herself than the handsome Marauder who was watching her as she continued making her tea.

"From the looks of things, it would probably get lost amidst the throng that you seem to be getting already," Sirius commented, watching as she stood on her tip-toes to reach the sugar bowl on the top shelf of the cupboard.

"Yes, I owe those to the wonderfully objective reporters at the _Daily Prophet_," she said sarcastically, trying to tug her shirt down with one hand as she reached up with the other, knowing how short the shirt was and how much of her back she was showing. Not particularly modest, she did like to maintain some semblance of decorum, especially when Sirius's Adonis-like body threw into stark light her own insecurities involving her physical appearance.

He laughed.

"Amazing, isn't it, how many ways they've managed to call you a wanton little minx?" he teased, coming up behind her and pulling the sugar bowl down, his toned chest brushing against her back.

Ignoring the searing thrill that seemed to settle itself in her loins, Hermione cleared her throat, taking the bowl from him and silently cursing as he moved away from her.

"Yes," she said, finding her voice again. "Though I'm sure if you put enough thought into it, you could come up with a few other glowing synonyms."

"Oh no, kitten, I'd need personal experience to adequately do you justice."

Hermione nearly fell backwards at his words but was able to catch herself at the last minute by grabbing the handle of the cupboard door. Unfortunately, the aged wooden structure was not equipped to handle her sudden weight, and swung inward, smacking her upside the head. Giving an incredibly unladylike string of expletives, Hermione slammed the door closed, only to have it bounce back and hit her in the head once more.

"So help me, Sirius Black, you laugh any harder and I will start hexing off appendages, starting with your favorite one," she growled at the guffawing man, holding her head in pain as she willed the cartoon-like golden snitches from dancing in front of her eyes.

"Sorry, love," he said, though she could hear the laughter in his voice. "You just never struck me as particularly klutzy, and that was very Tonks-like behavior."

"Just for that, you can make your own damn tea," she mumbled, pouring the now-lukewarm water into her mug.

"I actually came down for something a bit stronger. Care to join me?"

Hermione glanced at him, then her mug, then at him again. If the truth be told, she wasn't overly-excited about the prospect of a mug of tea. Plus, drinking with Sirius was always a fun experience, as the banter tended to get hotter the more they drank. And it _was_ a Friday night. She didn't have to be anywhere the next day. One or two glasses of alcohol – whichever ghastly poison Sirius picked – wouldn't do her any harm.

"Yeah, sure," she said, tipping the tea into the sink and walking over to the table. Sirius pulled a bottle of firewhiskey and two glasses down from the liquor cabinet and sat across from her.

"So what has you wandering the corridors and walking in on unsuspecting Weasleys at this hour of the night?" Sirius asked, pouring a generous shot of whiskey into her glass and pushing it towards her.

"It seems my brain is taking umbrage with my desire to sleep peacefully," Hermione replied, absently running her finger over the rim of the glass. "So I came down to get some tea in hopes of inspiring said elusive sleep."

Sirius chuckled.

"Do you ever just say anything straight out?" he asked, taking a sip of his drink.

"Not if I can help it. I find myself infinitely wittier if I use longer words," she replied, downing the glass without a second thought.

Sirius arched an eyebrow.

"Careful with that, little girl. This is the good stuff. The burn is more intense."

She shrugged.

"Sorry. Habit." He looked at her curiously and she smiled. "You live with the twins long enough, you learn to swallow first and ask questions later."

The slow smirk that appeared on his face had her re-evaluating her words and she rolled her eyes as she realized where his brain had gone.

"Get out of the gutter, Black. You know what I meant."

"Perhaps," he replied, still smirking. "Doesn't mean I'm not enjoying the image I conjured anyway."

She pulled the bottle toward her.

"One day you're going to have to make good on your innuendo," she mumbled to herself, pouring another glass. She was stopped by his hand on hers.

"What was that?" he asked, but the darkening look in his eye had her realizing that he had heard her perfectly clear.

"Nothing, don't worry about it," she said, standing with her glass as she walked over to the window. The kitchen was starting to get slightly hot. She saw a simmering cauldron in the corner and wondered if the twins had been brewing something before they decided to fix their attention on their prank gift for Draco.

"Are you going to Draco's party?" she asked, her gaze fixed on the half-moon in the sky. "I thought it was awfully nice of Narcissa to invite you."

"You're changing the subject, kitten," she heard his voice growl in her ear and her breath hitched as she felt his hands span over her hips.

Spinning around, she looked up into his eyes. The fathomless gray orbs were clouded by lust and desire was etched across his angled features. She could smell the firewhiskey on his breath and immediately drew the conclusion that his sudden proximity had everything to do with the alcohol and nothing whatsoever to do with her.

"Sirius," she said, trying to wiggle out from under him. He gave a sharp breath and his grip on her hips tightened.

"If you know what's good for you, 'Mione, you won't move like that," he hissed and she suddenly became aware of something very hard pressing against her thigh. She looked down at the bulge in his pajama pants before looking up at him, her face a canvas of confusion.

"Sirius, I know you haven't gone out in awhile, but you really can't be _that_ desperate."

He arched his eyebrow.

"Can't I?" he asked, his lip quirking in slight amusement. "I've spent months watching you sashay your curvy little behind around this house in those tight little shorts, watching you drink with the Weasley boys and have academic discussions with Remus and playfully banter with me…a man only has so much self-control, kitten."

She let out a throaty laugh, _knowing_ that this man – sculpted from Olympian marble – could not possibly be sober enough to know what he was saying.

"Why don't you go sleep off that whiskey," she said soothingly, trying to push him away again. "And we'll have this discussion when you're…"

She was cut off by a pair of wicked lips swooping upon hers and stealing the very breath from her lungs. Surprised by the sudden intrusion into her personal space, Hermione froze before her brain screamed at her:

'_The sexiest man you have ever met is kissing you, you idiot! Kiss back!'_

She heard Sirius groan as she responded to him, tentatively wrapping her arms around his neck to play with his shaggy black hair. His arms coiled around her waist, drawing her closer to his body as she melded into his hard muscle, her curves fitting perfectly against him. His tongue ghosted over her lips, seeking exploration in her mouth. She acquiesced, moaning as he ravaged her mouth with his, pressing her against the counter with his body.

His tongue dueled lazily with hers as she devoured him, tasting the whiskey on his tongue and knowing that he could taste it on hers as well. She wondered what the rest of him tasted like and suddenly the little voice in her head – the one she tended to ignore because it sounded eerily like the twins – told her that it wouldn't be such a bad idea to do something of an experimental taste test.

She figured, since she was in the situation in the first place, she would go with the less-than-pure intimations the voice suggested.

Pulling away from his lips, she nipped over his jaw and down his neck, reveling in how his sexy stubble felt against her skin. She sucked briefly on his Adam's apple, drawing a groan from him as he ran his hand up her back, taking her shirt with him as he pulled the garment over her head. Unfazed by the brief loss in contact, Hermione went back to his neck, drawing a path downward with her tongue, as her fingers skittered over his shoulders and down his arms.

Bringing her hands to his chest, she looked up into his face. He was watching her through hooded eyes and another white-hot thrill sped through her body and settled in her core. Pressing her palms to his pecs, she ran them down his body, teasing his nipples on the way and drawing another lazy groan from him. Nipping down the center of his body, she took an appreciative moment at his navel, allowing herself to sink to her knees as she bit gently along the thin line of course ebony hair that ran from his navel under his drawstring pants.

As she started to untie them, he paused her hands' progress.

"'Mione," he rasped and she looked up at him. He groaned at what must have been the picture of innocence from her end. She smirked slightly. Inexperienced though she may be in comparison to him, she knew her way around a tease.

"Yes, Sirius?" she asked, keeping her eyes wide as she kept his gaze.

He let out a breath.

"You don't have to do that if you don't want to," he said and she knew from the way his jaw twitched that he was holding back his desire to thrust his hips into her face.

"I don't have to what?" She kept her tone casual but she knew she couldn't hide the sparkle of power that danced in her eyes.

"Dear God, kitten…I can't tell you how many nights I've fantasized having your lips around my cock," he growled.

She gave him a cheeky grin.

"Why fantasize?" she whispered, lowering his pants to the ground and taking his long, thick hardness in her hands.

She saw him whip his head back as she let her tongue run lazily over the tip of his cock. She took her time, laving it slowly before taking the tip into her mouth and sucking hard.

His hands shot into her hair to steady himself.

"Jesus Christ…" he groaned, fisting her hair as she slowly took more of him into her mouth. "Baby…your mouth is amazing…I can't…you need to stop…"

Smirking to herself, she sucked harder.

Sirius cried out, gripping the side of the counter and she felt his muscles tense. Pulling her to her feet, he crushed his lips against hers as he ripped her shorts from her body, taking her underwear with them before throwing them aside. Kicking out of his own pants, spun her around and pushed her facedown against the counter. She squealed slightly as her heated skin made contact with the cold marble.

"It's freezing," she complained, but her discomfort turned molten hot as he kicked her legs apart and teased her entrance with the tip of his cock. "Oh…but I'll get used to it."

He gave a deep chuckle as he grabbed her shoulder, thrusting himself inside her. She gave a long moan, savoring the delicious stretch he caused and feeling goose bumps travel up and down her skin as his fingers caressed her back gently. She heard him exhale slowly and she knew she was tight around him. She felt a surge of power as she felt him try to control himself, his body tense from his discipline.

"Fuck, kitten," he groaned. "You're so fucking tight…you feel so _good_…"

She smirked again, and tightened herself around him, relishing the disintegration of his control as a hand entangled itself in her hair and wrenched her up off the counter. She groaned slightly at the pain, but it was nothing compared with the pleasure of this man – this sex god – buried deep inside her.

"You're playing with fire, little girl," he growled, his lips grazing her ear as a large hand splayed over her stomach. "You don't want to push me."

"Don't I?" she breathed, wrapping her arms around his neck from behind and arching her back, pressing herself back into him.

He let out a strangled cry and she felt herself being pushed down against the countertop again, her arms held behind her as Sirius started to slam himself into her body. Hermione winced slightly, her head still tender from the cupboard door's earlier assault, but the rough behavior was turning her on in a way she never thought possible and the ache in her head quickly disappeared with every movement. She moaned as her breasts slid back and forth across the countertop in time with his hard thrusts.

His animalistic grunts sounded behind her as his hips pumped in and out of her. The hand that wasn't locking her hands behind her back was holding her shoulder, steadying himself as he drew power from his legs. She could feel the strain of her muscles being held in the unfamiliar position but she loved every aching minute of it as the rest of her body felt the insistent pull within her start to grow.

"Shit…" she moaned after a particularly hard thrust had her back arching. "Oh shit…fuck me, Sirius…God…harder…"

Sirius gripped her shoulder tighter as he pressed himself deeper within her, taking longer strokes and thrusting harder into her writhing body. Hermione could feel her world slowly spinning to that dangerous stand-still that occurred just seconds before she was pitched into her pleasure, but she needed something more.

"Sirius…" she hissed, arching her back. "More…please…"

"Like this?" he growled, running his hand from her shoulder over her breasts and down her stomach, dipping his finger into her folds to draw lazy circles around her clit before pinching it.

"Fuck yes!" she moaned, tightening her walls around him as a jolt of pleasure shot down her spine. Sirius seemed unprepared for this and he let go of her arms to grip the edge of the counter to steady himself. Her arms flew behind her once more, tugging at his hair as his thrusts pushed her closer and closer to the edge and still his fingers played her, building a deeper pressure on top of the pressure she was already feeling within her belly.

"Please," she whimpered. "Don't stop…I'm so close…"

"That's it, baby," he whispered in her ear. "Just let it go."

His hips worked tirelessly, pumping hard and steady as she felt the coil within her tighten even more. Despite his consistency, however, Hermione knew Sirius was starting to feel the strain of holding out for her and his fingers increased their speed as he thrust faster.

"Cum for me, kitten…" he breathed, the sweat on his body conforming seamlessly to the thin sheen of sweat on hers.

And the coil snapped.

Hermione let out a long scream as her body was wracked by the most powerful orgasm of her life. The world, which had slowed to a crawl as the anticipation built, started spinning madly out of control as wave upon wave of pleasure cascaded over her body. Her limbs were tense and her fingers clutched Sirius's hair as her back arched, baring her breasts even more tantalizingly than before. She moaned his name through his continued thrusts, feeling his control slip over the edge.

"Oh…_Fuck_…" Sirius cried, his hips jerking forward as he buried his head in her hair, one hand gripping her stomach while the other held on to the countertop for dear life. She felt his body quake, his hands trembling as his teeth sunk into her shoulder to muffle the long moan that involuntarily escaped his lips. She could feel his body melt into hers as he collapsed, and her hands moved from his head to his hands as their fingers intertwined.

They were both panting, breathing deeply as they caught their breath before Sirius's lips were brushing gently over her shoulder, his tongue laving the angry red teeth marks in her shoulder.

"Looks like you've claimed me," she half-joked, not wanting to convey her hope that those past few amazing moments had not been a one-time sexual release for him.

"I'm not letting anyone else have you," he said, wrapping his arm around her torso possessively. "You're mine now."

She chuckled.

"That's until you get sick of me because I'm too bookish or too boring or too argumentative or too…"

"Shut up and kiss me, you little swot," he whispered, tilting her head back and catching her lips in a soft kiss. She sighed, letting her eyes flutter closed as she allowed herself to imagine her immediate future with this man.

Their post-coital intimacy was interrupted by the sound of soft tapping on the glass of the window in front of them. Seeing Hedwig, Hermione reached out an opened it, frowning slightly as the bird swooped in and landed right next to her.

Her eyes widened as she saw a bright red envelope clutched in the snowy owl's talons.

"Better open it, love," Sirius murmured in her ear, his arms still fixed around her waist. "Harry would kill you if that exploded and Hedwig got hurt."

"But…" Hermione said, her brow furrowing. "Hedwig was just upstairs…I saw her this evening…"

Sirius took the red envelope and, as if knowing what the note entailed, Hedwig flew out of the open window before Hermione had a chance to stop her.

Unsealing it, the envelope jumped from his hands and sat mid-air in front of them.

'_IF YOU TWO ARE QUITE FINISHED DEFACING THE KITCHEN, PERHAPS YOU CAN BE SO KIND AS TO REMEMBER TO USE SILENCING CHARMS THE NEXT TIME YOU DECIDE TO HAVE A PUBLIC SHAG?'_ Harry's voice filled the room.

'_YEAH, AND DO US A FAVOR, LOCK THE DOORS!'_ Ron's voice added.

'_OH, AND BE DEARS AND TAKE OUR POTION OFF THE FIRE?'_ one of the twins said.

'_WE WOULD DO IT OURSELVES, BUT WE ARE QUITE PARTIAL TO OUR EYESIGHT AT THE MOMENT,'_ the other added.

'_LOOKS LIKE YOU WON'T NEED THAT PRESENT FROM US AFTER ALL, EH GRANGER?'_

'_WELL DONE, SIRIUS!'_

And with that, the howler burst into flames, leaving a stunned animagus and a blushing bushy-haired brunette to deal with the consequences of their late-night rendezvous.


End file.
